Who Killed Ronald Weasley?
by TheHogwartsPlayers
Summary: Mr. Ronald B. Weasley, age 20, was found dead in room 13 of the Leaky Cauldron Thursday October 31st, under circumstances Aurors are calling 'suspicious.' Eight suspects are being held for questioning in connection to the crime...
1. Prologue

**_The Gateway to Death_**  
By Anita Scribe, Daily Prophet.

**Diagon Alley, London** _I can remember entering the gateway to the Wizarding World for the first time. So impressed was I, that my eyes stayed huge with childish wonderment for some time. My father and I would start out at a small, shabby-looking inn on Charing Cross Road, The Leaky Cauldron, which is sandwiched between a big book shop and a record shop. It's the place that serves as a 'bridge' between the Muggle and Magical worlds. I'm sure all of you good Witches and Wizards remember The Leaky Cauldron as a friendly, joyous, lively place; somewhere to stop and meet friends before venturing into Diagon Alley. A place of glad times._

But, no more. Today, The Leaky Cauldron is a place where death resides. The innocent, quintessentially low-key establishment and its link to the Wizarding community's busiest shopping street have been cordoned off until Aurors finish their investigation into the murder of well-known Wizard, Ronald Weasley.

Weasley (20), was found dead in Room 13 of the Leaky Cauldron today, at 10am, Thursday, October 31st, in circumstances Aurors are calling 'suspicious.' I have been reliably informed that the Chief Investigator, Madame Boadicea Basher, is holding eight suspects for questioning in connection with the crime, although their identities remain classified at this time. The alleged murder weapon and possible motives have not been disclosed.

Weasley was apprenticing under renowned Herbologist Professor Pomona Sprout and planned to assume her position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry upon her retirement. When asked if Weasley had any enemies, Divination Professor Sybil Trelawney commented unhelpfully, "I knew you would ask me that question…"

Mr. Weasley's friends and family could not be reached for comment at the time of going to press.

Whilst a student at Hogwarts, Weasley was part of the famous Golden Trio along with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Information suggests that they were estranged from him at the time of his death.

I personally remember this young wizard fondly. So well-liked was he by all that knew him that I was hard pressed to find a single person to comment, such was their obvious grief at his untimely passing. Chief Inspector Basher will be giving a press statement later today; The Daily Prophet will keep you up to date with any findings.

The Daily Prophet shares the Weasley family's grief at this time, and hopes that the person or persons responsible are brought to justice swiftly.

Chief Investigator Boadicea Basher sighed heavily as she tossed the dog-eared copy of the latest Daily Prophet across her desk. Taking a long sip of tea, she shook her head. This case would get ugly. It was barely twenty-four hours since the murder, and the accusations and innuendo were already flying. There was more dirt underneath the surface of this one than in any case she had yet handled. All the suspects seemed to be connected in some manner, not least of which was sexual. Merlin! A lot of facades would tumble down as a result of this investigation. But if that was what it took, then so be it!


	2. Chapter 1

I didn't want the Weasley case. Too many high profile people involved. All of them with past ties to the victim, almost each and every one capable of the murder.

Arggh! Who am I kidding? Every single one has the ability and more than likely the drive to do away with Weasley…_Do away with!_ What a lovely euphemism for killing a bastard like Ron Weasley!

**MURDER CASE FILE #3110-WEASLEY**  
_Chief Investigating Auror: Boadicea Basher  
Case File opened 31 October 2000_

**Initial Findings**

Fact: Victim was Ronald Bilius Weasley, D.O.B March 1st 1980 age 20.  
Fact: Large physically; looked strong  
Fact: Last employment was as Apprentice to Prof. Sprout, Herbology Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; former Auror Trainee, washed out of programme.  
Fact: Body found on morning of 31 October 2000, in Rm. 13 of The Leaky Cauldron, Charing Cross Road, London.  
Fact: Body was found by room service.  
Fact: Body was moved from the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron.  
Fact: Small dagger found lodged in body. Satin rope at crime scene? Murder weapon? Both of them? One of them something to muddy the scene?  
Fact: Time of death took place between 21:00 30th October and 9:00 31st October. Definitive findings are still pending.

**Preliminary Thoughts**

By all accounts, the little shit deserved to die while he was still at school. Low self-esteem, jealous of his friends – mostly monetary – evidence of abuse as a child and that parents ignored it; all textbook indicators of a troubled, violent boy. History of possible abuse garnered from stray comments during interviews. Started young? Probably relative – he has five brothers.

Jealousy: Potter had fame and fortune. Was also a great piece of arse, supposedly? School-boy crush? Groupie? Stalker?  
Jealousy: Anyone who got near Harry Potter.  
Jealousy: Granger had superior intelligence. Pity fuck? Annoyance?

Sexual Preference: male, but willing to take what he could fuck get. Seems most partners were male.  
Sexual Preference: violent, often beat or left partners bloody; psychological and physical abuse of partners.

History of substance abuse: Alcohol, drugs both Wizard and Muggle (unknown substance found on body).

Personal ties to murder suspects:  
Schoolmate of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom (Gryffindor); Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini (Slytherin).  
Son of Molly Weasley  
Former fiancée of Hermione Granger  
Former student of Severus Snape  
Ties to Lucius Malfoy, nightclub owner, _Club Echelon_; business under surveillance for illegal activities (pending investigation by another division).


	3. Chapter 2

Chief Inspector Basher sat back at her desk waiting for the first of the suspects to be brought before her. A light tap to the window signified the arrival of the midmorning delivery owl, in its claws it carried a newspaper. On inspection the Chief Inspector saw that it was the updated version of this mornings Daily Prophet.  
Swishing her wand, somehow knowing she would be needing a strong coffee, a cup appeared in her hand, she took a sip as she shook the paper out onto her desk and read the headline.

**_News Flash New Developments in Weasley Murder Investigation_  
By Anita Scribe, Daily Prophet Special Correspondent**

It has been brought to my attention that the Ministry of Magic's Chief Investigator Boadicea Basher, has detained eight prominent Wizards and Witches in relation to the brutal murder of Ronald Bilius Weasley. I was truly shocked at the names on this list. Many are famous figures that fought together on the side of Light in the war against Voldemort. They find themselves together again, however this time they are accused of being involved in a most heinous crime. With the help of statements from people who know these suspects, I have pieced together a brief insight into their relationship with the deceased. Could the Ministry have got it wrong? Do they indeed have the murderer of Ronald Weasley in one of their holding cells? Or have they been duped into believing idle speculation?

The information I have gathered for you, as unbelievable as it may seem, is correctly recorded. My sources have been double checked for authenticity, and I can assure you that they have corroborated this information under Veritaserum. The Daily Prophet is committed to bringing you the whole story as it comes in. I will update any more information as it comes to light throughout these investigations. In the meantime,

**_The Suspects_**

**Hermione Granger** had been betrayed too many times by the victim, and was threatening to publicly humiliate him and get him sacked from Hogwarts. She had sought comfort on a couple of occasions from the Italian Stallion, Blaise Zabini, but ended that liaison when she found he liked his own sex more than she thought he should. Hermione works as an Auror in the Dark Wizard Department of The Ministry and is on speaking terms with Chief Investigator Basher.

**Molly Weasley** found her son and his old Potions master in a very compromising position and told Ron that if he didn't come clean to his fiancée, she would do it for him. Ron assaulted his mother, telling her that she would have to watch her back. The result was that Molly told Hermione, who promptly dumped him. Ron never forgave his mother for this and they hadn't talked for some time.

Now that the Dark Lord has gone, **Lucius Malfoy** has become bored of petty squabbles in the Wizarding World and now runs a select nightclub in Muggle London. Ron was a regular at the club, Echelon, and was known to be seen quite often doing 'business' at Lucius' table. It has been reliably told to me that the nature of this business was drugs. Lucius has also disowned his only son and heir, Draco, out of jealousy of his relationship with Harry Potter, with whom Lucius has been enamoured for quite some time.

**Draco Malfoy** loathed Ron Weasley with a passion, and only just tolerated anybody else from Hogwarts. To say Draco is overjoyed that his school days are over is an understatement. His lover, Harry Potter, had suddenly begun getting visits from Ron at odd hours, which only made Draco angrier. Draco had recently been disinherited because of his relationship with Harry. If anything happened to this relationship, Draco would be penniless.

**Neville Longbottom**, was a long suffering friend of Ron's who had been going through a terrible time. He had taken up with a Muggle girl, Lorelei MacClaggan at a party. They had been together 6 months and had planned on settling down. She was out partying one night and after somebody gave her a spiked drink, she died. Neville is still in a state of shock. Neville works at a Muggle flower shop.

**Severus Snape**, the lascivious old Potions master seems to literally have his old and new students beating down his door. Ron went in for the rough sex that he could inflict on Severus where as Harry Potter enjoyed being totally dominated by him. Ron threatened to tell everyone that he was a 'raving poof' if he didn't turn a blind eye to Ron's little drug dealings. Severus' reputation was at stake, so he had no choice but to comply. This was much to the chagrin of his other secret lover, Harry.

**Harry Potter**, Draco's long term lover. Has been getting more than Potions tutoring from his older teacher for quite some time. It was due to the kinky nature of their sex lives that Harry was very jealous of Severus' affair with Weasley and wanted to really have a go at Ron over it. But because he was in a relationship with Draco, he had to sit back and watch it go on, literally. Harry, like Hermione, had been estranged from the Ron for quite some time. The late night visits that Ron was making to Harry's house were starting to become a problem.

**Blaise Zabini** never really had a lot to do with Ron, but was a constant in Neville Long bottom's life, since they shared a house together. Blaise is allegedly a confirmed sex maniac, loving nothing more than breaking couples up for sport. The victim recently discovered Mr. Zabini was more than friendly with Hermione Granger. Blaise was also engaged in sexual liaisons with another of his school friends on a regular basis; they would meet at the Leaky Cauldron for sex, once a month or so.

Chief Investigator Basher has scheduled interviews with the eight suspects, beginning immediately. Transcripts of those interviews will be made available as soon as they are released by The Ministry of Magic. Please continue reading The Daily Prophet, your source for the latest developments in the ongoing Weasley Murder Investigation.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Leaky Cauldron

By Bonfoisbkar and sa1boy

Beta by Sevfan

You'd think someone would want to lay claim to ridding the world of this blight on humanity! The rumour mill about this waste of a wizard is rampant with drug use, violence towards women and men and even a bit of drug dealing on the side. Circe and Morganna, what I wouldn't give for a nice case of straight-up mayhem! Colin has gone over his photos with a fine-tooth comb, looking for anything we may have overlooked, but neither one of us can see anything out of place. It should get clearer once we've finally talked to the main suspects. And I'd truly like to get my hands on whoever is leaking our information to the Prophet…guts for garters doesn't even begin to describe what I want to do to them!

b MURDER CASE FILE #3110-WEASLEY /b 

i Chief Investigating Auror: Boadicea Basher

Case File opened 31 October 2000 /i 

b Autopsy Findings, 31 October 2000 /b 

The victim was found fully clothed on a bed in room 13 of the Leaky cauldron.

Preliminary reports found that the victim had been strangled and stabbed.

Detailed autopsy carried out by Chief Coroner Ivor Clever found the following:

Victim was stabbed ten times with a sharp, three-inch serrated edge knife (found next to the victim, confirmed as only knife used). Blood placement at the scene of the crime signifies that the victim was dead when he was first stabbed.

Skin colouration (Lividity) is fixed, confirming that body was moved after death.

Victim had a 2 meter length of satin rope tied around his neck using a full blood knot. Rope was pulled so tight that satin fibres were imbedded in victim's neck.

Victim had various narcotic substances in his bloodstream, most significantly the Muggle drug methamphetamine (street name - speed).

There were also large amounts of hemlock found in victim's stomach, alongside residues of coffee and a light meal of salad leaves.

Discolouration of the victim's knuckles and skin fragments under the victim's fingernails signify that he had been in a scuffle within the last eighteen hours.

b Photographic Interpretation: The Leaky Cauldron, 31 October 2000 /b 

i Report of Colin Creevey, Auror Photographer /i 

Various photographs show a small dagger and a length of rope lying next to the deceased; the dagger is 10 centimetres from right ear of deceased, and the rope just below the deceased's throat, partially imbedded in neck.

On the night table to the right of the deceased was a portion of blank parchment and a broken quill.

No evidence of breaking and entering was found. No evidence of any disturbance in room.

Photographic evidence has been logged on 31 October 2000, witnessed by B. Basher.

center 0 /center 

Sat at her desk in the Ministry of magic, Basher reflected on the interviews she had held earlier that day.

b Location Interviews: The Leaky Cauldron, 31 October 2000 /b 

Tom, owner: Last name unknown. No prior offences on file.

Chief Investigator Basher entered the room, all Dicta-Quills instantly started to record the interview.

i "When did you last see the deceased Ronald Bilius Weasley?" /i 

"I saw him – "

i "Could you please speak clearly for the dicta-quill - and if you don't mind could you elaborate on who you saw please. Kindly refrain from referring to the victim as him, this is a murder enquiry I must remind you." /i 'This is going to be one long night,' she thought.

"I'm sorry, miss. The deceased, Ronald Weasley, entered my premises alone, sometime between 18:00 and 19:00 on October 30th. The deceased, Mr. Weasley, was belligerent and also slightly intoxicated."

i "Mr. –" /i 

"Just Tom, dear."

i "It's Chief Investigator Basher, actually." /i 

"Of course it is, dear."

'Cheeky little scrote, I will have to remember to check your drinks license for that,' Basher thought.

i "Please continue." /i 

"Thank you, dear."

i "Did you serve the victim on that occasion? Also, please tell me how the victim looked?" /i 

"I had not served him in my establishment since an altercation he caused a week ago. I saw no indication of wounds when the deceased paid his weekly rent. He rents a small flat from me in Diagon Alley."

"Tell me, Tom, what do you think about the death of Mr. Weasley?"

"Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. The blighter still owes me for the damage from the fracas he caused last week! No, I shan't be at all sad not to see that no-good, drug dealer again."

"Thank you, you may leave."

i "End interview, quills off. /i 

Opinions: Physically able to have committed crime, but has barroom as alibi. Pensieve recorder under bar shows he did not leave from 17:00 – 23:00, left at that time for only 15 minutes, then returned until 2:00. Found the body during morning room service 8:30 – 9:00 31 October 2000. Dismissed as a potential murderer.

Other witnesses questioned:

b Dedalus Diggle: /b Former member of defunct Order of the Phoenix. Follows Harry Potter's exploits closely, has done so since first sighting him as a child in 1991. Knew deceased was a friend of Potter's and that he was also once involved with Granger. He avowed he could recognize Potter, Granger and the deceased on sight. When asked how he knew his information was correct, he stated: "I keeps me ears and eyes open, Auror! More than what some might think." When pressed to elaborate, the wizard merely smiled and sipped his firewhisky.

b Doris Crockford: /b Witch whose biggest claim to fame is her two handshakes with the Boy Who Lived on his first visit to the Leaky Cauldron. Was inebriated at the time of her interview, singing bawdy Quidditch songs and muttering something about "better red and dead than back in black." When sober, she denied any ties to the deceased, and swore vehemently that Harry Potter was nowhere near the Leaky Cauldron on the night of 30 October 2000; she would not explain who or what was "back in black". Mrs. Crockford will be interviewed again, to get a more detailed statement of her whereabouts. Not physically able to have committed the crime. Veracity of statement is in doubt; interviewee is known drunkard.

b Hag: /b name unknown; famous for propensity to eat liver with everything. Toothless witch of indeterminate age and social means. Purports to have seen someone matching the deceased's description in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, arguing with "a dumpy shadow." Will not give name or residence. Not physically able to have committed crime.

Area canvas could find no one else who saw or heard anything. Those willing to comment spoke of loud noises behind the Leaky Cauldron, but there are no solid leads. Club Echelon shares alley with Leaky Cauldron.

End case study: 14:00 31 October 2000.

center 0 /center 

Boadicea sat at her desk an hour later; she was just about to interview the Granger girl, when she heard a tap on the window. 'Oh shit,' she thought as the delivery owl flew in, clutching in its claws an updated version of the hottest news in the magic world - the death of Ronald Weasley.

center i News Flash

New Developments in Weasley Murder Investigation

By Anita Scribe, Daily Prophet Special Correspondent /i /center 

I have just been given this statement from a source close to the case in the tragic murder of Ronald Bilius Weasley.

center b Mr Ronald Weasley was found with ten stab wounds in his head and chest. The stabbing was done after the unfortunate victim had been killed by strangulation. It was also found that there was a sizeable amount of the deadly drug hemlock in the victim's stomach. It is believed that the body was moved to the Leaky Cauldron after death occurred. /b 

Well, there you have it. Not only was Ronald Weasley strangled, he was poisoned and then stabbed. It leaves this field-hardened reporter to ask the question - is there more than one murderer? And what is Chief Investigator Basher doing to solve this case?

More news will be revealed, as soon as it becomes available.

Anita Scribe

Daily Prophet /center 

Boadicea Basher choked on her fourth cup of Earl Grey. Someone in her department was leaking vital information to the public. Setting the cup down very carefully, she stood up and went to her office door. Opening the door, she roared out, "I want the bloody bint, Anita Scribe, in my office as soon as possible, or I'll know the reason why!"

Closing the door softly, she leaned back against it. A migraine began throbbing behind her right eye. She winced and headed back to her desk. The desk that had her major suspect interview list sat on.


	5. Chapter 5

center b i Im an Auror, I didn't do it.

By Lightgoddess /i /b /center 

"Madame Basher, I still don't see why this is necessary!" I say, as the Chief Investigator of my former fiancé's murder pulls me aside for questioning. "We work in the same department at the Ministry. I know the drill."

Madame Basher only smiles at me. We've been friends for a while now, being two of only ten ladies to make it into the Auror program and actually graduate. I chose to stay in the Dark Wizard Department while she went on to head Crime Scene Investigation. She's always been able to get things from people that no one else could. "Hermione, I still don't know why you are making such a big deal of this. You know the drill and you know that it's not nearly as painful as it appears. The only problem is that I've been told you actually saw Ronald yesterday, and besides that, you and he have been friends since you were eleven."

I huff and allow her to lead me into one of the smaller, sterile looking interrogation rooms. It's stark white with one table and two chairs, and a magical two-way mirror in the wall. I know what, or rather who, lies behind that mirror as I've been there before myself. "Fine," I say, "let's get this over with."

She smiles again and pours me a cup of tea, but doesn't pour herself one. She settles in her chair and pulls out her dictaquill and a parchment. "Now, as you said, you know the drill, we'll begin the questioning. State your full name, occupation, and a personal description of yourself."

"My name is Hermione Jane Granger. I am a Captain in the Dark Wizard Division of the Aurors in the Ministry of Magic. I am five feet six inches tall, approximately 115 pounds, with brown hair and eyes. I am thin and muscular. Is there anything else?"

"Any identifying marks? Tattoos, piercings, scars, moles?"

"I carry the magical mark of an Auror of my class, but as you know, that information is classified. I also have a nipple ring," I reply.

"Do you have any limitations that can not be overcome by magic?" she asks.

"None," I reply.

"Have you ever been suspected of committing any crime?"

I snort at this. "Would I be an Auror if I were, Madame?"

She sighs. "Hermione, drop the Madame bullshit. I'm just as much Boadicea right here, right now as I was yesterday before all of this happened. I just want to get this over with with you, because everyone knows that it takes a certain kind of person to be an auror, and you are that kind of person. It's just procedure. Now, when was the last time you saw the deceased?"

I roll my eyes at her again, but this time I grin. "All right, I'll drop the bullshit. The last time I saw him was yesterday. He was pissed off of his arse, propped up against the wall near the gateway to get into the Leaky Cauldron."

"Before that, when did you see him last?"

I pick up my teacup and raise it to my lips. I stop. I'm an Auror and know that one of the tactics used when interviewing suspects is to lace tea with Veritaserum. I wordlessly banish a sip and set the cup back on the small table lest the potion cause my tongue to begin to wag needlessly. "You know all about that, Boadicea."

She nods. "I do, but we need to make it part of the record."

"Well," I begin, "I suppose it was almost six weeks ago now that we broke up. I was interrupted one evening by Molly, Ron's mother, while I was reading. He was off only god knows where, and I was engrossed in the newest V.C. Andrews novel. So, she steps through the Floo and begins ranting and raving. She's screaming about 'cheating men' and 'bloody poufs'.

"Finally, I fix her a cup of tea laced with a strong calming draught and once she calms down, she forms coherent sentences and tells me everything. It appears that Ron was blackmailing one Severus Snape, trading his silence for favors of a sexual nature."

Boadicea looks up, clearly surprised. "Yes, Snape's gay. Anyway, so not only has he been cheating on me, but he's been cheating on me with a man. It's not like it's the first time, either, but I always overlooked it before. I couldn't this time, though. Snape gave me hell all through my school years. He's greasy, ugly, and mean, and I couldn't take that Ron wanted something like that over me.

"After Molly left, I went to his flat and waited for him. When he finally dragged himself home, he was so pissed that he couldn't walk. We had a big row, he tried to hex me, and then he tried to hit me. I knocked him out cold and after that; refused to speak with him. I was through with him."

"So," she asked, "you dumped him? How long were you together?"

"I'd do it again if he hadn't gotten himself murdered, Boadicea," I replied. "We were together for four years."

"I can't say that I'd blame you, Hermione," she replied with a sad smile. "So, what were you doing in the alley yesterday? Can anyone vouch for your presence there?"

I pick up my cup of tea again and banish another sip. It's cold anyway. "I'd come to Diagon Alley to get a couple of books for a case I'm working on. One was Obscure Poisons and Their Antidotes and the other was a book on the newest transfiguration techniques. I had to wait until late to come because I was working alone out in the field and couldn't get in before then, so, other than Millard, the junior Auror I was working with, no one else knew I was there. That's when I saw Ron, the fucking drunkard."

Boadicea gives me a knowing look, leans back, and steeples her fingers together, "Where does Blaise Zabini come into all of this, Hermione?"

"Other than being a fence straddler and the best shag of my life? I couldn't tell you."

"So you and he were lovers, then?"

I wordlessly banish the last of my tea and set the cup down the final time. "We shagged two nights before I broke it off with Ron. He does these wicked things with his tongue, Boadicea."

She scrunches her nose up and waves a hand. "That's not what we are here to discuss, though. What did you mean by he's a fence straddler?"

I laugh. She knows exactly what I mean. I did, after all, pick that phrase up from her. "He plays for both teams. He likes giving and receiving. Blaise is bisexual…and a home wrecking slut. As far as I know, he prefers those who are already in a relationship to those who aren't, and he'll shag anything that moves if it's got a hole."

"Well, Hermione, if you were in my position, who would you look at, yourself included?" Boadicea asks me.

"If I were leading the investigation, I would look at everyone, but I might look at Molly a little harder than some."

Throwing me a confused look, Boadicea asks, "Molly? His mother? Why?"

With a chuckle I reply, "Well, I can give you several reasons. One, she hates a queer. I remember her telling me one time that if she ever had any bloody queers in her family then they'd be as good as dead. Two, Ron was the fuck up. Think about it, the twins have millions now with the joke shop; Bill is married to that French bitch and they've got beautiful part Veela children; Charlie ended up marrying Tonks; no one knows where Percy is anymore, and Ginny is the first string seeker for the Canons. What's Ron doing? Barely scraping by and trying to work at Hogwarts. He's done nothing, and on top of it, he likes to be poled up the arse.

"If you ask me, Molly's going to be the one to look at. From my stance as an Auror, I'd say she has motive. She is the one who told me about the sexual favors. Now that I think about it, I hadn't talked to that overbearing bitch in years before she came to me about Ron being a pouf."

Boadicea simply nods at me. I've given her something to think about. "I think that's all, Hermione. I want you to stick around until we get through with the other interviews."

We walk back into Atrium from the small room. I'd not realized how cold I was in there until now. I shake her hand and walk toward the lift. "One more thing, Hermione, do you own a knife?"

Chuckling I answer, "You know I do. I have several standard issue knives from the Ministry, and you also know that they are registered with the department. You also know that I am more than capable of using them. If you need me, I will be in my cubicle finishing up some paperwork from this past week."

Walking away, I know that this investigation is going to take a lot of time and effort on her part and the part of her team to figure out just who killed Ron.

please review.


	6. Chapter 6

center b Lucius Malfoy /center /b 

center by DracosMinx /center 

hr 

I can't help but sneer at the incompetent investigator pacing around the room. Surely, they don't believe that I killed the damnable Weasley boy. True, the satin around the boy's neck could have come from the club… but do they realize how many people are in i Club Echelon /i every night? However, I would never have been so ignorant as to leave him in the open to be found so easily. "I assure you, I did not kill Ron Weasley."

"Mr. Malfoy, we have reports from various people stating that you and the deceased had numerous arguments that ended in you threatening, and I quote, 'One more time, Mr. Weasley, and they will never find your body'." The simpleton has the nerve to peer at me now as if daring me to deny I said it. "How do you answer that charge, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It is quite obvious, you realize. I did tell the miscreant that. However, since you have found the body, it should be apparent that he did not die by my hand." Idly, I flick at a piece of nonexistent lint on my trousers attempting to not hex this imbecile. "As welcome as the outcome is, I did not do the deed."

"It sounds, Mr. Malfoy, as if you and the deceased did not get on that well."

Well, well… our Magical Law Enforcement division really has begun hiring the bottom of the proverbial barrel if this is the best they can come up with. I slowly let my mask fall into the Malfoy smirk, voice dripping in sarcasm as I ask, "Really now, when have you ever known a Malfoy to get along with a Weasley?"

While the staring contest with this little peasant is amusing, I really need for this little… chat to end. I have been up all night at the club and plan to be there tonight as well. To achieve that I need sleep… and to get sleep it is time to take control of this farce. "Auror," squinting at the badge hanging crookedly on her chest, "Smith, I have not denied that Mr. Weasley and I did not get on. He was, on one occasion, in my establishment. However, that is not a crime; I am a businessman after all. We did, at various times in the past, have words between us that could not be termed as polite. Again, though, that is not a crime."

"I will need you to give me a detailed accounting of your whereabouts for the evening of October thirty and morning of October thirty-one." Once more, the stupid boy addresses me as though I am not telling him the truth. Unfortunately, at least for one Mr. Zacharias Smith and the Ministry of Magic as a whole, I will be speaking to my barrister about the abhorrent treatment. I have never been treated this disdainfully, even when I was guilty.

With an inward grin, I decide if the little bastard wants details, then details he shall get. I wonder just how dark I can make him blush. "Very well, Wednesday evening. The thirtieth was a Wednesday, correct?" Receiving his nod, I continue in the same bored drawl I use in any official investigation, "Wednesdays are quite busy at i Echelon /i ; strip night and all. I was at the club an hour before we opened, at four in the afternoon, and stayed until the clean-up was done at around three-thirty in the morning."

The little whelp is raising an eyebrow at me. That look really does him no justice. Instead of condescending, it just appears as if strings are moving him about. Pathetic, really. "During the evening, it would have been around eight or so as I was having a light meal at my table, Mr. Weasley appeared in the club. We had words and Mr. Goyle, one of the many bouncers that I employ, promptly escorted him to the back entrance. With the exception of restroom use, I was in the club proper the entire time."

Taking a sip of the cool water, unconcerned by the Veritaserum added to it, I decide now is the time to embarrass this little bastard. "When everything had been set to right, I left through the back entrance with my current lover, Matt Carter, and apparated to the flat we maintain in Paris. Do you need the details of relations that night also? I could tell you of the wicked things Matt did that night to help relax me… for investigative purposes only, of course."

I have to work hard at keeping the snort of amusement in. Just alluding to a sexual act seems to have the man spluttering. Really, I am a Malfoy; they should have had the chief investigator, Boadicea Basher I believe her name is, interview me not this peon in the food chain. "There is no need, Mr. Malfoy, for you to go into detail of your activities. I can simply verify your whereabouts with Mr. Carter. When did you leave your flat in Paris the next morning?"

Ahh, yes, I do have the laced water in my system now; of course, he would not want me to start expounding on acts of a sexual nature. Looking out of the window, I continue to give this man my schedule of days past. "I attended an eight o'clock meeting at Gringotts. I am sure that Griphook could verify my attendance. The meeting adjourned close to nine, at which time I went to the club to balance the financial sheet for the night before."

There seems to be a spark in his eyes at that. Like a mongrel seizing a piece of meat, he asks, "And, is there any witness to your comings and goings during that time period?"

Arching a brow at the man I can't help but ask, "Are you truly considering me a suspect in this… this sham of a murder?"

The man is puffing up like a hippogriff; must have inadvertently pointed out to him that he is very low on the food chain…very low indeed, since he has been appropriated to interview the least likely of candidates. Standing up, I lean across the table and let my mask of indifference slip so he can see the blaze of hatred flare through my eyes. "I passed Draco on my way to i Echelon /i , right outside the Leaky Cauldron. He was holding a bag from the bedding shop, although I could not tell you when he sank so low as to shop for his own bedding. Perhaps, sir, you should be looking at him… he has always shown a i taste /i for redheads."

Pushing back on the chair, I move to the door, keeping my strides even and my demeanor calm. "This interview… interrogation, really… is over. Should you find proof that I did this crime I shall be at the club preparing for another successful night."

Slamming the door, I have to chuckle inwardly… that Weasley brat is dead and all my problems are over now.

b Disclaimer: /b All characters and settings are the property of JK Rowling and the various publishing and media companies that have purchased rights for the name Harry Potter and all that entails. No infringement on these rights is intended.

i Beta'd by Jadzia… /i 


	7. Chapter 7

center i b Draco Malfoy

A lesson in Interrogation.

By LOUI

Beta'd by The Hogwarts Players /b /i /center 

Hearing the door to the Interview Room open, I, Draco Malfoy, quickly reassume an air of studied nonchalance and give the outward appearance of being fully intent on buffing the perfect fingernails of my left hand on the right sleeve of my bottle green velvet shirt. I may have been disinherited for having the effrontery to have a relationship with i Potter /i but that did not mean that all the lessons of my childhood had been bad ones.

The Malfoy family do not show nervousness or fear in the Ministry of Magic. We have, after all, been bribing the officials of so many departments for so long now, that it is practically impossible not to meet somebody walking the corridors of the Ministry that the family has not 'owned' at some point or another. Our star may not be completely in the ascendant as it was in recent years, but, we are by no means beaten down. We are still walking about free and with money – well, those of us that haven't been disinherited for shagging the hero of the Wizarding World – and we are still the richest of the pureblood families, not to mention, one of the oldest and most powerful. It may take five years, it may take fifty, but the family will become pre-eminent in society again rather than just reluctantly tolerated, as is the current status quo.

Besides, it's that Basher woman who is going to be questioning me… I have never liked her. She's always looked at me as though I was some potions ingredient that gave off a pungent smell. She knows damn well whose side I was on during the war – all the oh-so-perfect Auror division do. It is an acknowledged fact that the Boy Who Lived and I have been shagging for years. It is also an unspoken but acknowledged fact that the entirety of the Auror division – apart from Harry – would still quite happily gut me for sullying the perfection of the Wizarding World's Golden Boy.

Still, apart from the indignity of having to sit through an interrogation – they can call it an interview if they fee it sounds prettier, I know it is an interrogation – and actually being considered a murder suspect, this is turning out to be quite a good week. I've i finally /i managed to find just the right shade of silk and the most i exquisitely /i soft leather in the absolutely perfect shade of silver. Harry promised me that I could buy whatever I want for Frederico to make me a new ensemble for the Ball next month at the Ministry. I fully intend to look like sex on a stick.

I've had my little bit of extracurricular fun – now obviously curtailed by recent events – but that is irrelevant. From what Ron – i the Weasel, remember, you don't know him that intimately /i – had all but flung in my face with those suspiciously not-so-secret meetings that left Harry so flustered, it was all too apparent that Ron knew that it was not only me that had been having a bit on the side.

I did not – and still don't – want to know why Harry has been shagging Snape –my imagination quails at the thought of it. All that I want is to make sure that I am the one who stays in Harry's bed. I want to be the one the public acknowledges as Harry Potter's other half. I b do /b not like the idea of sharing Harry with anyone, and, if I can, I am going to make sure that I give Harry all he needs in bed to make sure he no longer needs to stray. If I can't give Harry what he wants, then – much as it aggrieves me to – I know that I will have to share Harry's affections, even if that means sharing my lover with, of all people, Snape.

I have – and do – love Harry as best as I know how – ironically i that /i was one of the lessons that my Malfoy upbringing has left me woefully unprepared for – but I know it might not be the all-consuming passion and devotion that Harry probably craves. We are so very good together, though. I may stray on occasion, but that is only because I have absolutely no willpower when it comes to someone offering me casual and easy sex. As long as Harry and I can keep what we have – and I get to keep access to Harry's…sorry, 'our' money, as Harry keeps telling me – then I know… okay, hope… that we'll be fine.

I knew it was time to break it off with the Weasel when I found out exactly how complicit he was in the drug-death of Longbottom's girlfriend, Lorraine… Lorna… it was something beginning with an L. When Ron threatened to expose our relationship, if you could call him fucking me senseless a relationship and vice versa, to Harry, then I knew that I was going to have to take stronger steps to break free from Weasley.

I already knew about Harry's bit on the side because I am a Slytherin, I am a Malfoy, and I am – even if I say so myself – a sneaky git. I am far better at hiding wrong-doing from Harry than Harry is from me. Harry is still full of wonderful naiveté when it comes to my being ever-so-slightly deviant from the straight and narrow path that Gryffindors – and their loved ones – are supposed to tread. It is one of the things I love about my bloody Gryffindor.

I had only gone after the Weasel in a moment of pique one night when I knew Harry was off somewhere with Snape. It was an illicit thrill to actually fuck the freckled fuck-monster. I still have friends inside the staff of my father's club and that wider scene. I knew exactly what the youngest Weasley male had got up to in recent years… far more than the Aurors probably still know. It had been a mind-fuck to fuck the man who's befriending of Harry Potter had scarred my own school days since the first day of First Year.

I'd won in the end, though. Harry really hadn't had anything to do with either of the other members of the much-vaunted Golden Trio in years. He'd had more Slytherins with him than Gryffindors during the Final Battle, and, I, Draco Malfoy had been the one constant that had graced his bed for years. Who said the good guys always won?

The bint – oops, that was, I meant, Chief Investigator Basher – tapped one of her over-long fingernails on the table that separated us, I roused myself into an effortless sitting position, my back ramrod straight and posture absolutely perfect, of course, and plastered an insincere – but completely convincing – smile on my face, and said, "My dear Madame Basher, how can I help you?"

The fake smile that was directed back at me would have got me sharply hexed by my mother when she was training me how to act in public if I'd tried to pass that off as 'sincere'.

She pulled out a parchment and a Weasley-patented tamper-proof note taking quill. It would record absolutely everything said in the room, and annotate any lengthy pauses between a question and an answer. An invention of the Weasley Twins – the only two worthwhile people in the entire family – that had been much relied on during the war to ensure that fake deployment orders and similar such things could not be used. It was now as widely used as a Dicta-Quill and was far better for official recordings.

"Do I have your permission to use a Verbatim Quill to record this interview?" I, of course, nodded my assent. It wouldn't look good if I threw a hissy fit over something like that, would it?

"Mr. Malfoy, as you are aware, there has been some recent unpleasantness in the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron."

Arching an eyebrow with practised ease, I said, "As I understand it, dear lady, I am being held as a suspect in the murder of Ronald Weasley. I think that ranks somewhere above 'unpleasantness'."

The fake grin slipped from her face and it instead assumed its more familiar waspish personality. Not that I would ever admit to it, but that fact actually relaxed me slightly. I don't like it when Aurors – other than Harry – try to be friendly with me. It just raises my hackles.

"You are right, of course, Mr. Malfoy. Murder does indeed rank above mere unpleasantness. Tell me…what was your relationship with the deceased?"

I bite my lip to keep from commenting aloud at her god-awful attempt at interjecting casualness into an interrogation to set me, the one being interrogated, at ease. If this was the level of competence amongst the Aurors, then some remedial lessons in basic interrogation techniques were long overdue. Still, I have nothing to hide – well, not i that /i much – and I actually i am /i innocent of the crime under investigation, so I say, "I am familiar with him, of course. We were in the same year at Hogwarts and he was one of my partner Harry's oldest and dearest friends, though that friendship has not been as close in recent years."

"Anything else?"

I frown artfully and say, "Well, of course, I have seen him on the social scene. He is a member of one of our world's most prominent Light families. My partner and I do get invited to balls, parties and the like quite regularly. I have run into Weasley on occasions like that. Please, don't ask me to try and name them all just now. My memory for those occasions is a tad vague at times."

A subtle way to say that on many of these occasions I was actually either pissed or b so /b stoned that it required Harry safely escorting me home to make sure I got there in one piece.

"I may choose to come back to this question at a later date, Mr. Malfoy. Is that all right with you?"

I find this so tedious, so I just sigh and say, "If you must."

"Where were you at the time of the murder, Mr. Malfoy, and can anybody corroborate this information?"

I inwardly wince. "Well, as I don't know i exactly /i when Weasley was murdered, I can't be precise. I was shopping for a good proportion of the day in Diagon Alley as I needed some truly unique fabrics for my designer Frederico to work with, in order for something to be ready for the Harvest Ball."

"I was in the Leaky Cauldron for part of the day too; I was meeting up with an old friend from school. We catch up about once every month or so."

In other words, I thought silently, Blaise and I meet up and fuck each other silly for an afternoon or night, but be damned if I'm going to tell you that in an official statement that Harry might get to see.

"And can anyone corroborate any of this, Mr. Malfoy? What is the name of your school friend?" repeated the Basher woman.

I outwardly wince now. Play to all your advantages. That was what I had been taught. I'll have to use every bit of wiliness and craft that I know to give myself any added protection I can. "If at all possible, I'd like to keep the name of my friend out of things. They are a former Slytherin student, and, while on the Light side during the war, they have still not escaped the stigma of their 'Dark' family members."

"I do have an alibi, though. The trouble is that I doubt you will find it easy to get them to admit to having seen me. You see, I did sort of run in to my father, Lucius Malfoy, when out shopping. We didn't speak, nor did he acknowledge the nod of greeting I gave him, then again, he never does. It's been years since he disinherited me."

"You can always i try /i getting him to admit to having seen me… I wish you the best of luck in that endeavour."

Chief Investigator Basher sighed feelingly, and it spoke volumes as to her thoughts on that idea.

"Do you have access to either satin rope or a small dagger?"

I laugh aloud and then quickly apologise before I get the harridan too ticked off at me. "Dear lady, I am a pureblood male. Your family is pureblood yourself… you know what every male is given as a gift on their seventeenth birthday. Add to that, that I have collected daggers ever since, and I cannot possibly say 'no' to that question."

"As for the satin rope…" Here I flash my patented sexy grin that held me in such good stead at Hogwarts and said, "Yes… and if you truly want to know exactly i why /i Harry and I have satin rope in a drawer in our bedroom, I i will /i tell you." That, of course, is wishful thinking. It was only that one time that we ever used the rope, which was a pity. Basher didn't need to know that, though.

I laugh inwardly when Basher clearly blanches white in horror at the thought and she quickly moves onwards with her questioning.

"Who do you think killed him, Mr. Malfoy?"

Time to divert attention away from me. I break into the advanced techniques of my mother's training and break my excellent posture to lean forward slightly, giving the mental impression to the woman questioning me that I am about to convey a secret against my will, and say, "Well, this is all speculation, of course."

Basher mutely nods her understanding and encouragement at me.

"Going to my meeting with my old school friend, I did almost bump into another old school acquaintance in the corridor, Neville Longbottom."

"I didn't think much of it at the time, but your questioning about who might want to cause Weasley harm and how much of a relationship I had with the man i has /i brought a memory to the surface. A few weeks ago, I was at a party alone – Harry had to cancel due to some big emergency here at the Ministry that all the Aurors got called in for – and, while at the party, I overheard some rumours that Weasley might have been involved with the drugs that killed Longbottom's girlfriend… the ones that the Prophet reported were in her spiked drink."

"I have no idea if that is true or not, but I do remember that Longbottom was also at that party… and that Weasley wasn't."

Basher has her elbows resting on the table and her hands steepled together in front of her as she listens intently to what I am saying. She nods when I am done, and then says, "And one final question for you, Mr. Malfoy. How do you feel about Mr. Weasley's death?"

I sigh and lean back in my chair; my mother would have been so proud of this performance today. i I think it is good riddance to bad rubbish, but, I am not going to say that to you, you daft bint! /i 

"It sounds terrible to say that I am not that upset, but I truly am not. Maybe it is a reflection of the generation I grew up in, but I have lost a lot of school acquaintances to untimely death."

"If he was an innocent victim then, of course, I hope you find the killer. If, as it is rumoured, he had a hand in that unfortunate girl's death, then he may have had a hand in others. If someone has acted in an 'eye for an eye' fashion then – while I abhor their actions as illegal and the wrong course for seeking justice – I would be lying if I did not say that some small part of me secretly applauded their will to act."

Basher nods and says, "At this time, Mr. Malfoy, I need to advise you that you are still considered a suspect in the murder of Mr. Ronald Weasley. You will be returned to the holding cells until the remainder of the initial interviews of suspects have been completed."

"At that point, I will review my findings to date and make my recommendation to the necessary justice officials of the Ministry as to whether or not I require the suspects to be held in custody."

"I have the discretion to advise for your release, and for the use of monitoring bracelets that can track your every movement and act as a port-key should the Ministry require your presence again, but, only they can authorise the use of such measures."

"Thank you for your cooperation with this interview, Mr. Malfoy. It is now concluded."

Basher left the room and I wait impatiently for the two Aurors that will escort me back to the holding cells, wondering silently about Ron Weasley. i Who killed you, you bastard? /i 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 9

**Severus Snape**

by Sevfan

Betaed by VCCV

Merlin save me from these incompetent fools! Chief Auror Boadicea Basher – how this poor excuse for a witch ever rose to such a position is beyond me. She obviously thought herself very clever this evening, trying to catch me out with all her inane questions. The woman did not realise with whom she was dealing. If Voldemort was unable to find me out all those years, how in the name of the seven hells did she think she could? Hah! I am much too clever for her. I had an answer for each and every question, each one given with ease, as if we were chatting about the weather or some other banality. I sat there, looking positively bored and oh so put out by her implication that I might be responsible for Weasley's rather timely death. I am well practiced in such an appearance. One does tend to become expert after a lifetime of performances. Basher tried hard, I'll give her that much. It just wasn't good enough. It was all I could do to contain my smirk when she said I could go. Stupid bint!

My testimony was flawless; completely iron-clad save for one little detail – Harry Potter. I told Basher that Potter and I were engaging in sexual intercourse at the time of the murder, therefore I could not possibly have committed the crime. This would be a truth any other night except, unfortunately, that one. No, my feckless little Gryffindor slave was absent from my chambers. Potter may be incompetent in many things, but he is by no means a stupid man. I am counting on his intelligence to be my alibi and his. I tried desperately to find Potter before my interrogation so that we could corroborate one another's stories, but he was nowhere to be found. My little whore will be severely punished for his absence. I was forced to tell my little deviation from the truth cold and unrehearsed due to his neglect. My story was all together likely and that is why I am counting on Potter to tell Basher the same tale – that we spent the evening with my cock up his ass.

Wouldn't the wizarding world be scandalized to know that their little hero was not only gay, but into kinky sex as well? That there was nothing he liked better than to be tied up and beaten? That he got pleasure from being by hurt and humiliated? The punishment, of course, being inflicted by yours truly. Our relationship began shortly after Potter defeated the Dark Lord. Potter came to me. Oh so needy he was that night. I was more than willing to oblige. The relationship evolved rather quickly and Potter became my slave. I have to say, he does it very well. He submits to my every whim and has never refused me. I have pushed him to the limit and he just takes it all like the good little slut that he is. Such a pretty sight he makes – clad only in a leather harness, his arse fiery red from my hand or my paddle, his back decorated with thin red lines where my whip has caressed it. Poor Harry, he does get so hard! Sometimes, I let him come. Sometimes. Yet, he never complains, my little Gryffindor pussy. Even when I let him suck me off and I leave him dripping and achingly hard, he thanks me for allowing him to pleasure me. Master has never sounded so sweet as it does coming from his ruby lips. What would they all say if they saw how he takes my cock up his ass and begs me for more, pleads for me to fuck him harder? What a sweet revelation that would be! I could order him to do it, to tell the world of his perversion. I know my Harry would, as proof of his love for his master. But alas, it would not do for the world to know _my_ perversion as well.

Harry does love me, foolish Gryffindor that he is. I have forbidden the words. They will never cross his lips and yet I see it in his eyes. Those impossibly green eyes speak volumes. The eyes of his mother… Lily, forgive me for what I do. James, I fuck your precious son and he _loves_ it. I think of you know, James, often at the oddest moments. When I am pounding into his tight, impossibly hot body or when I piss into the mouth that he holds so willingly open for me, you cross my mind. I could not have planned a sweeter revenge and it is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Pity you cannot partake of such orgasmic delights. More's the pity it cannot be bottled; one tiny phial and I could retire with wealth beyond my wildest dreams. To leave behind these snot-nosed, insolent, cretinous creatures I endure on a daily basis would be worth all the riches it might bring. But enough foolish reverie!

Harry services me well and provides me outlet for my sexual urges. I am, on the whole, satisfied with our arrangement. However, there are times when I need more than he can provide. Occasionally, I require what he requires from me – to be dominated, to feel the sting of the whip, the pain and the humiliation, to be fucked. These things I cannot ask of Harry. It is not in his nature to hurt, even if his Master commands it. It is at such times that I seek out solace from another, one not afraid to give me what I want and need. Such a person was Ronald Weasley. He was everything Harry was not – hard, cold, cruel to the extreme. His punishments were exquisite, his torture divine. I grew to crave his touch more and more. Harry never knew of our trysts until one day, his own carelessness brought him to see what he did not wish to see. Harry had gone out for the evening and I quickly called Weasley to my chamber, not wishing to waste one precious second of pleasure. Harry had forgotten the book he had promised Granger and returned to fetch it, walking in on his former best friend and myself in flagrante delicto. Harry had never seen me so. I was collared like a mangy cur and Weasley had hold of my leash and my hair as he fucked me with wild abandon, never breaking stride as Harry came upon us. I said that Harry's eyes spoke volumes and they did that night as never before. I watched him as emotion after emotion flashed quickly and painfully by: shock as he found his supposedly faithful lover being taken by another, his so-called best friend; dread as I ordered him to stay and watch, his eyes begging me to let him go; hurt as he heard my moans of pleasure from acts I would never permit him to do; jealousy rising swiftly from the pain as he realised he might perhaps lose me forever; hatred towards Weasley for his betrayal. These last two emotions were clearly the strongest. I had never before witnessed such fierceness in my little slave and I think, at that moment, he was capable of anything, even killing Weasley in a fit of jealous rage. If you had seen the fire in Harry's eyes that night, you would undoubtedly agree.

I could not reveal all this to Basher. Harry does have his uses and I would not like to see him wrenched from the happiness he has found under my care. I attempted to send the dear chief Auror down another avenue by implicating someone else. Harry tells me everything, you see. He had relayed some interesting bits of information that Granger had confided to him in a moment of despair. It seems that she had grown weary of her fiancé's philandering ways and had taken a lover for herself. Imagine my surprise to learn that she had taken one of my ex-Slytherins to her bed, in the form of one Blaise Zabini. Granger must have been desperate to sully her lily-white Gryffindor reputation with a lowly Slytherin. But then again, her two best friends had done the same. As for Zabini, I am not surprised that it was he she chose. He is a well-known user of women and will fuck anything that still has a pulse. I would not be surprised to learn that particular attribute was optional for him. Heavens me, I "accidentally" let the information about the Granger-Zabini tryst slip to Basher during my questioning. Although she tried to hide her excitement at this juicy bit of gossip, I saw that she swallowed the bait whole, not even stopping to chew. I am positive she is already polishing the medal she thinks she will receive for the quick resolution of the Weasley murder. Gullible bitch!

As for Weasley, I am not in the least sorry for his demise, even if he fucked me well. Ron was a nasty little shit who had everyone fooled. If there was ever a boy who deserved _not_ to be sorted into Gryffindor, it was he. Well, perhaps he did at first, but that quickly changed. The older he got, the more his true character emerged. I can honestly say that I would not even have wanted him in my House, and that is not saying a lot for Weasley. Harry was so very kind to fill me in on all of his activities, from his dealings with Lucius to his treatment of his fiancée. I confronted Weasley about his involvement in the drug world, an action that was not at all appreciated. He warned me to keep out of his affairs, threatening to tell Harry what we had been up to. This was of no real concern to me – I knew that I could handle Harry. Seeing that his words meant little or nothing to me, he lashed out again, this time with even more venom. He was a smart man and quickly found a reason for me to keep silent. If I persisted and exposed his clandestine activities, he would expose _mine_. All of them. Having no desire to find myself homeless and penniless, I held my tongue. As for Miss Granger, what he put her through made my skin crawl. One may compare my relationship with Harry, and Ron's with Hermione, and ask what the difference is. Are they not the same, both violent and abusive? The two are as different as night and day. Harry and I have an arrangement, one in which we have both given consent. Hermione never gave consent; she permitted Ron to have his way, but never agreed, never derived any pleasure from his depraved actions. She allowed herself to be used as a doormat, all in the name of love. Can you see now why the word has been banned from Harry's vocabulary? I know I cannot order the feelings from his mind as well, so I do not try. Foolish Gryffindor, he should not fall so easily. I am sure he must believe that I love him in return, but I do not. I love no one. To me, he is my fuck-toy, my slave, my little pet. I should not like to see him sent to Azkaban, but if he is, so be it. There will be another to willingly take his place.


	9. Chapter 9

A Loss of Innocence—Neville's Story

By Constant Vigilance

Ron.

Oh my friend, are you really gone? How is it possible that only two years ago, we were all just children? I remember our last night at Hogwarts. You, Harry, Dean, Seamus and I were all piled together on Harry's bed laughing and shoving each other playfully off into the floor. I remember you had just gotten together with Hermione, and Seamus was teasing you about getting into her knickers.

You grinned and flicked him off. So, he started in on me since you wouldn't give him the pleasure of being embarrassed. Me, whom he knew had never even seen a pair of knickers that weren't my Gran's, much less ever had a girlfriend. He kept pushing, nagging, harder and harder. It was quickly becoming 'not fun' for me. You saw that. You saw it and you told him to bugger off. That when I finally decided to go knicker-chasing, I'd be a sex god.

I guess you were right. Lorelei thought I was pretty good. I never left her wanting, at least. So, I guess you really did know. You always knew everything. You always saw everything. Everything, I suppose, but this, my old friend. Oh, Ron. If only. If only things had been different. If only we had remained those innocent, unknowing children. You would still be alive today. If only…

The door creaked open and a woman strode in. She wore the Auror insignia. I should know. I'd seen it every time I went to visit my parents. Gran thought that hanging it over their beds would help to bring a spark back to them. All it really ever did was make me feel more useless. I was getting pretty damn used to that feeling in my life. But, I digress.

The woman came to the table and sat down on the other side of it, laying out a sheaf of parchments and self-inking quil. She took a moment to stare at me with hawk-like eyes and I briefly wondered if my eyes were still swollen from my last crying jag. She cleared her throat held her quill at the ready over the parchment.

"Neville Frank Longbottom?" she demanded. I nodded and then flinched as she narrowed her eyes.

"Er…yes. Sorry," I croaked.

"Age?"

"Um…20?" She didn't look pleased that my voice turned that into a question.

"Occupation?"

"I'm…er, I'm a florist," I managed to get out. I'd never wished for a glass of water more in my life. She had the presence of Severus Snape and the bearing of Draco Malfoy. A combination that made me want to tremble and beg for forgiveness for…well, whatever they wanted me to beg for, I suppose.

The woman fixed me with a stern glare. "I am Chief Investigator Boadicea Basher. You are here because you are a suspect in the murder investigation of Ronald B. Weasley, age 20. Would you like to make a statement?

I blinked. "A-A statement, ma'am?" I stuttered. "About wh-what?"

She pursed her lips. Yet another horrid thing she had in common with Snape. "A statement about the death of Mr. Weasley."

"Um…I think…I think it's a horrible loss?" I tried. She rolled her eyes.

"No, Mr. Longbottom. Not a statement regarding your opinion on the death. A statement admitting guilt."

My hands twitched helplessly on my lap and my eyes grew wide. "G-guilt?" I squeaked. "B-but I didn't do it! Are you finding me guilty?"

The Chief Investigator sighed again and set her quill down. "No, Mr. Longbottom. We are not finding you guilty. You'd need to be on trial for that. What we are looking for right now is admittance to the crime or denial of culpability. The first will save a lot of time. The second means I will then have to ask you more questions." She looked thoroughly disgusted at that notion.

"Oh," I heaved a great sigh of relief. "Well, then. I'm in denial." I winced. "I mean…I'm denialing, er…I mean—"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Longbottom," she cut me off with a growl. "I think we get the point. So. That brings me to the _thrilling_ task of asking you questions."

"All right," I nodded, folding my hands in my lap as Gran had taught me to do when I was enduring…ah, receiving a lecture.

Chief Investigator Basher looked as though she were sucking on lemon drops. "Now, Mr. Longbottom. Please describe your relationship with the deceased."

The deceased. Oh, Ron.

"Well," I began, licking my lips to moisten them. "We were great friends in school. Known each other since we were 11. Sorted into Gryffindor together." Chief Investigator Glass looked irritated and I realized I was rambling again. I flushed and tried to focus. "We sort of drifted apart after school, though."

"Why?" she barked.

I jumped a bit, which seemed to put a hint of a smirk on her lips. "Well, Ron had a falling out with Harry and Mione. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, that is," I clarified. She waved me on. "Um…well, after that, he just seemed to lose his sense of direction. He started going to bars and clubs every night. He started hanging around unsavory people. The kind that are on a path you just don't want to go down."

She had picked up her quill again.

"We had stopped seeing much of each other, really. He was spending so much time with his new 'friends' and hanging around that club Lucius Malfoy opened down in Diagon Alley." My lip curled. I could feel it. And Chief Investigator Glass didn't miss it either.

"You don't approve of clubs?" she asked, her eyes pinning me to my chair.

"It's not that I disapprove of clubs in general," I shrugged. "It's just…Malfoy ran this one. And every one knew…Ron knew what kind of person Malfoy was. And he still went there. He started…he started doing d-drugs," I felt a lump in my throat and hoped I wouldn't start crying again. "I know Malfoy let him deal in there. He let him go further down that path. I…I couldn't stand it, anymore," I whispered. "I started avoiding him. I started spending more time with Lorelei."

"Lorelei MacClaggan?" she interrupted.

"Yes." The lump was getting bigger.

"Miss MacClaggan has recently died as well, I see," she said, absently thumbing through the parchment.

"…es," I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes. She did. She was at a get-together and h-her drink was spiked. She was rushed to a Muggle hospital, but it was too late. Sh-she d-died." I blinked rapidly, feeling my eyes begin to burn. "That's actually another reason I was avoiding Ron."

"How so?"

"His lifestyle," I looked down at my hands, fisted in my lap. "It…it reminded me of how Lorelei d-died. I lost her. And it sort of hit home that I might lose him too. That I'd lose my loved ones one at a time to something I didn't even understand." I felt the first hot tear trickle down my cheek and cursed my inability to go a day without crying.

"Hmph," was her reply. She gave me a moment to collect myself and then began shuffling parchment again. I wiped my face and looked back up at her, ready for the next assault on my emotions.

"So, Mr. Longbottom. Where were you at the time of the murder?" Her gaze narrowed on me again.

"Um…well, I don't know exactly when that was," I pointed out hesitantly.

She gave a disappointed frown before glancing down at the information in front of her. "He was found by housekeeping on Thursday, October 31st at 10 a.m. in a room in the Leaky Cauldron. We are placing the time of death between 9 p.m. October 30th and 9 a.m. October 31st." She stared at me again.

"Oh," I flushed. "Um…so where was I between 9 and 9?" She nodded irritably. "Well, I was in my flat."

"Can anyone corroborate that?" I blinked at her.

She growled. "Is there anyone that can prove your statement?"

"Oh. Um…well, Blaise, I suppose," I shrugged. "Blaise Zabini. He's my roommate. I'd just come from Hogwarts, visiting with Professor Sprout. She was my mentor at school," I smiled slightly. Chief Investigator Basher didn't seem to be interested in any mentoring I'd had so I took a deep breath and continued. "I'd been down lately and wanted to find a bit of the spark I used to have before…before Lorelei's death.

"The best times I could remember were in the Greenhouses at Hogwarts, and so I went. But, it wasn't the same." I closed my eyes briefly. "I'd _become_ someone since my years in Hogwarts. Maybe not an important someone," I smiled wryly, "but I'd found acceptance and love. I'd grown up. It's really true that you can't go home again," I shook my head sadly. "I went to Hogwarts to find comfort, but all I found were memories of what a pathetic sod I used to be.

"So," I sighed. "I came home. More depressed than I had been when I'd left, to be truthful. Blaise sat with me for the longest time just listening to me cry. He's a bit of a player," I chuckled. "But when it comes to his friends, he's always been there for me. He was there for me when I lost Lorelei. He really was the main reason I pulled through. He never gave up on me. Anyway, he sat with me for hours. Then he tucked me into bed and just sat with me until I fell asleep."

"What time did you go to Hogwarts?"

I knit my brow, trying to remember. "Um…it was after dinnertime. I didn't want to interrupt. So, eight or so?" She nodded and made some more notations.

"All right, Mr. Longbottom. Next question. Do you have access to a length of satin rope and a small dagger?"

I frowned in confusion. "I…I suppose I could. I mean, really," I shrugged helplessly, "all I'd have to do was Transfigure it." At that, another flush washed over my face. "Ah, never mind that," I mumbled.

"Why is that?" Chief Investigator Glass jumped on my hesitation.

"I, er…well, it's not a secret, I suppose," I sighed. "I didn't get my Transfiguration NEWT, and that's public record. What isn't public record, but seems to be public knowledge," I knew I sounded bitter, but I couldn't help it, "is that I can barely make a cotton shoelace." To prove my point, I lifted my leg out around the table so she could see the hideously mangled attempt.

It was lumpy and misshapen, not flat at all like a runner lace and not rounded like a bootlace. It was rather a hodgepodge of both…and it was puce. That look of disgust came over her face again and I concentrated on replacing my foot under the table hoping it would be gone when I looked up. Thankfully, it was.

"Anyway," I forged on, "I don't see how I could have made something as rich as a satin rope. Nor could I really afford it. One doesn't make much money in a Muggle flower shop," I smiled wryly again. "As for the dagger. I know I couldn't make it. I suppose I could buy one. Or borrow one. I know that every boy is supposed to get one for his coming of age, but," I blushed. "Gran didn't think I was ready for one." One more thing to add to my humiliation. "I do have a Potions knife, though," I added helpfully. "Though it might have corroded by now. I…er, didn't take much care of my Potions things after I left Hogwarts. Too many bad memories." I couldn't help the shudder that ran through me.

"Yes, yes," she waved me quiet as she scratched some more information down. "Only a couple of more questions, Mr. Longbottom. Who do you think killed him?"

I blinked so hard that I blinked a lash loose and spent a moment or two trying to get a hold on it. "Well, I don't really know," I finally offered. "You asked about a rope and dagger, so I'm supposing that's how he died? Um…I guess anybody, really, could have killed him if I were to try to guess by the weapons alone. But as for who would have a reason?"

I shrugged. "I think that there were probably many people who were on the wrong end of a…drug deal with Ron. But it had to be someone he knew."

"Why do you say that?" the Investigator asked quickly.

"Well, he obviously trusted them enough to go up to a room alone with them," I pointed out, then frowned. "Unless, someone put him there. After they killed him, that is." Her eyes were beginning to shine like they had a Lumos behind them. I scooted back a smidgeon, wary as always of that kind of look. "So, in that case it would have to be someone strong…"

I stopped myself again. "No, I don't suppose it _would_ have to be, would it? I mean, someone could levitate him, couldn't they?" I sighed. "Sorry," I blushed. "I sometimes forget. I don't use levitation spells very often." I knew my face was darkening again. "I sort of have a block thanks to…well. Never mind. Although…" I tilted my head thoughtfully, "he…I mean Snape, Professor Snape, worked with Ron.

"And he hated us. All of us. Gryffindors, that is," I explained. "He especially hated the friends of Harry Potter. And you know that Ron was his best friend. Now that Ron is…was working at Hogwarts, Snape may have been taking out his hatred on him."

She looked skeptical. "How do you come to that conclusion, Mr. Longbottom?"

I suppose by now I should be used to people assuming I have no deductive reasoning skills. I'm not. Her look hurt. "I saw Ron at Hogwarts," I said quietly, reproachfully. "He was storming along looking really, really angry. He was muttering about the 'Greasy Git.' That was what we used to call Snape in school. Ron was saying how that was the last time he was going to take Snape's…er, shite. He looked a bit mussed. Like he'd been roughed up, you know? I didn't think anything of it at the time," I smiled wryly. "I mean, Ron was always complaining about something Snape did. And he was never the most neatly groomed of people. But…hearing about his murder…"

I clapped my hand over my mouth and stared up at the Chief Investigator with horrified eyes. "Oh, Merlin," I breathed, pulling my hand down. "What if…what if I were actually witness to a first attempt on Ron's life? And I just brushed it off? And went home to whinge about my lot in life while…while that…that bastard was going after Ron again?"

My chest was hurting. My eyes were beginning to tear up again. "Oh dear Merlin, I could have prevented it!" I whispered in horror. The tears began sliding down my cheeks and I could barely see the Investigator as she started to squirm uncomfortably. A moment later and I had a cloth stuffed in my hand. I nodded blearily and began to mop at my face.

"Well, I suppose I still have to ask this question," she sighed, beginning to stack her parchment back up. "How do you feel about his death?"

I stared at her in disbelief. "How do I…?" I couldn't even form words. "I? How? How do you think I feel about his death?" I snapped, then flushed again. "Sorry. I'm sorry. That was rude. I don't know how we'll all get over this," I tried again, leaving the 'insolence' out this time. "He was a dear friend. Friends since we were 11. He stood by me. He was always there for me."

My eyes began to water again. "I should have tried harder. I should have tried to pull him up off of that downward spiral he was on. But…but instead, I just left him," I said softly. "I left him and now I've lost him." I looked up helplessly at her. "I've lost him."

She heaved a huge sigh and nodded. "Well, I think that will be all, Mr. Longbottom." She stood and moved to the door. Opening it, she held it for me as I walked through. "Thank you for your cooperation. Don't leave the London area in case we have more questions."

I nodded and tried to hand her back her handkerchief. She wrinkled her nose and waved me off. With a nod, I pocketed it and walked away. As I stepped outside into the crisp fall air, I turned my face up to the sky.

And mourned my lost innocence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Harry Potter**

by SeparatiX

* * *

Dead. I can't believe my best friend is actually dead. But then, maybe...I know Ron hasn't been the same since...Well, he's just been a completely different person, really. And there are so many people who had a bone to pick with him, that just about anyone could have killed him. Anyone. Fuck! Ron is really dead. I just can't believe it. I loved him like the brother I never had. And now he's gone, and I don't think things will ever be the same.

I sit here watching as Basher takes another person back for questioning, and if I think about it long enough, a number of likely suspects come to mind. But I can't just sit here, can I? No, my mind is racing too damn fast to sit here. I have to get up and get out of here, do something. I need to talk to...but how?

I have to calm down and think this through rationally. Who would want to kill Ron, and why? I sit back down and begin really going over Ron's past to see if anyone stands out.

I know Ron had a rather stormy history with Draco. The two of them never got on well together, at least not for as long as I have known them. Hell, I don't think Draco ever forgave Ron for befriending me before he got a chance to, and we all know what a sore loser Draco can be. But Draco has changed a lot since we left Hogwarts. He left behind all of our petty childhood rivalries a long time ago, and I haven't heard him refer to Hermione as a Mudblood in ages. No, Draco hadn't even been capable of killing Dumbledore back in sixth year, and I don't think he has it in him to take another human life. Not now, not ever. And because Draco cared about me, he would never, ever do anything to hurt any of my friends, because he knew he would be hurting me. Besides, I would have just as much reason to hurt Ron as Draco would, considering Ron pretty much made sure I knew how bad a person Draco was, fuelling our rivalry with every derogatory comment that came out of his mouth. Shit, what's taking that Auror so long? I just want to get this over with so I can go home.

And then there is Lucius. I know Ron had a big problem with Lucius Malfoy, especially after Ginny was used as a pawn for Riddle's charmed diary when she was only eleven years old. There has always been bad blood between the Weasley and Malfoy families, and Lucius never let Ron forget that. But did the hatred run deep enough for Lucius to want to kill Ron? I doubt it. Lucius might not be the nicest of men, but he is not a murderer. Even the Ministry came out and said that he had been infiltrating the Death Eaters in order for the Aurors to get a step ahead of Voldemort, and without his help, I doubt that I would have been able to defeat that snake-faced freak-of-nature. Lucius was exonerated of all charges, and was even given an Order of Merlin for his role in the war.

But Ron...Even though he frequented Lucius' club often, Ron never believed that he had been working on our side. He thought that it was just a case of Malfoy choosing the side he thought was going to win, then jumping ship to join. Ron was always coloring my opinions of the Malfoys. _"Bad faith, Har_ry!" He'd say. i _"That's what the name Malfoy means. They're trouble, the lot of them."_ i Hell, I thought Lucius was an intriguing and highly sensual man with a dominating presence, and I really would have liked to have got to know him better. But Ron and his judgmental attitudes helped make sure that I was as closed off and narrow-minded as he was. How could I have been so blind?

You know, almost every year we were at Hogwarts, Ron had some sort of issue with me. The look on his face when he criticised me for being a Parselmouth was just...well, he was downright scary. It's like he thought I was the reincarnation of Salazar Slytherin himself, there to wreak havoc on Hogwarts. How could he have felt that way about me? I was his best friend; he should have known me better than that! And the jealousy in fourth year nearly had us calling our friendship quits. I felt such a coldness and distance from him that year. I guess I was more hurt than anything when he accused me of lying when I insisted I hadn't entered my name in the Goblet of Fire. Saying I was a glory seeker, taking all the attention from him, like I really wanted to focus any more attention on myself than absolutely necessary. Not bloody likely! But the accusations kept being flung at me! I was only fourteen years old! He knew... _knew _ how much I hated the fame and celebrity, but he was always impressed by that. Didn't it mean anything to him that he was the one thing that I would miss the most? And, oh god, he is! Just hours gone and I already feel the empty place he occupied in my heart. But did he really care about Harry, or was he just blinded by the whole Boy-Who-Lived bullshit? Sometimes it felt like I was defined by the blasted scar on my forehead, and not by who Harry actually was inside. And the way he treated Hermione...

The third member of the so-called Golden Trio. Hermione, what a piece of work that one was! Our first day at Hogwarts she blew through our compartment on the Hogwarts Express like a whirlwind, that was quintessential Hermione. No one was surprised when she and Ron got together. But Ron took advantage of her; he really treated her like shit. For all of his talk about how poorly the Malfoy's treated Muggle-borns, he really wasn't that much better. I don't think he ever fully accepted Hermione, even though he claimed to be in love with her and they were engaged to be married. But he was always making these subtle slips about purity and blood, like he thought Hermione wouldn't notice it.

But like Sirius said, Hermione is the brightest witch of our age, Muggle-born or not, and she could tell when he was talking down to her. But, it really shocked me when he would leave Hermione alone for days on end, then come waltzing back in like there wasn't a care in the world. He didn't care if she was stuck in that flat by herself, as long as she was there, willing to spread her legs for him. To him, she was just a warm, wet hole to shove his cock in whenever he was in the mood to fuck, regardless of her feelings. And I know there were times when he was rough with her, he even bragged to me about using her as a fuck toy for some of his friends, sometimes two or three at a time. The man had no scruples! He said she was a wanton slut, and had literally begged him to wank as he watched her suck and fuck three of his friends, taking on all three at once.

_"It was so hot, mate!"_ he said. _"Her mouth was being fucked by a huge cock, and she was straddling another; I could see that hard prick slamming up into her pussy, while her arse was being pounded from behind. She looked so hot, with my cum splattered across her face and begging to be fucked hard. My mates got their money's worth that night." _

I couldn't believe the things he told me he did to Hermione. Oh, he would have married her if she hadn't dumped him, I am sure of that. He would let his friends use her body, dampen her spirit, all the while making sure she was producing lots of little red-haired babies so Molly would be proud of him. Because none of his other siblings had given Molly lots of grandchildren, and he was going to be the first to have a large family, and then his mum would love him.

But even though Ron treated Hermione like a cheap Knockturn Alley whore, she worshipped him, and she would never do anything to hurt him. There was a time that she'd do everything she could to please Ron, even whore herself out to strange men. Hermione is such a selfless person, always looking out for others before herself. We all made fun of her about S.P.E.W., but her heart was always in the right place. I remember all the times she tried to make us take notes in classes so we would do well on our exams, but then turned around and lent us her notes when we didn't manage to pull it off in time. She saved our arses more times than I can count. No, Hermione is simply too kind hearted to murder anyone. I really can't blame her for finally seeing the light and calling things off with him.

Chief Investigation Auror Boadicea Basher is coming toward me; it's time for me to take my turn in her little game of cat and mouse. I keep going over everything Severus has taught me about clearing my mind and preparing my shields. There is no way in hell she's going to get me to say anything. But, as soon as I walk through the door, I feel a tingle as a spell washes over me. My head is lighter, and I feel like I want to share everything with Basher. Shit!

The floor is worn where I have been pacing in the small, airless office that the Ministry has graciously allotted to Basher. I wonder if she knows her namesake is supposedly buried under platform 12 in Kings Cross Station. Probably. I try to relax as she adjusts her Dicto-Quill and begins her round of questions.

"Will you state your full name for the record, please."

"Surely you know my name. Harry James Potter. Ring any bells?" She rolls her eyes at me and presses me to answer more of her inane questions.

"Where are you currently employed?"

"I don't have a job. My job finished the day I obliterated the snake-faced freak-of-nature called Voldemort from the face of the planet. I think I deserve a little off time, don't you?" I've clearly angered her, her lips are pressed in a firm line and her eyes narrowed into beady little slits. I walk over to a mirror that is hanging on the wall and continue playing this idiotic game, as she huffs out her next question.

"Please give me your physical description, including any identifying marks you may have." She actually chokes as she asks me this question. Serves her right.

"Obviously, I am 5'10" tall, and I have shoulder length black hair. And there's this pesky little scar, right in the centre of my forehead. You do have eyes of your own, do you not?" I pace some more; I really, really need to get out of here.

"How did you know the deceased, and what was your relationship with him?"

"Everyone knows that Ron was my one of my best friends when we were in school. I've known him since we were both eleven years old, and his family made me an honourary Weasley. He was family, okay?" I run my hand through my hair and take a few breaths to calm down. "Ron fancied himself in love with me, and we shagged a couple of times, but it just didn't feel right to me. It was like sleeping with a brother, not that I've had any experience in that department."

There is a photo on her desk, two tow-headed children. I pick it up and look at them, so wide-eyed and innocent. At least they are living in a Voldemort-free world, and would not be forced to grow old before their time. I put the photo back down on the desk abruptly. All of her questions are beginning to give me a headache, and I rub my temple absently.

Ignoring my action, she takes a seat at the cluttered desk and ruffles through the disorganised mess to find a file before continuing. "Are you, or have you ever been suspected of committing any crime, and do you own a dagger?"

"I am standing here being questioned about the death of my best friend, Madame Basher. I would think that this could be considered being under suspicion, wouldn't you? And yes, I own a dagger, but you would be hard pressed to find a witch or wizard who is not in possession of one." My palms are sweating, and I am thankful she has not employed the use of Veritaserum for this little party, although I do feel the effects of the Speak Easy charm she cast on me as I walked into her office. She will not like the answers I am about to give her, but because she cast the spell, I will not be able to temper my responses to spare her precious sensibilities.

She rises, and comes to stand directly in front of me. "Where were you the night of October 30th?" Finally, the crux of the matter.

"The night of October 30th, I was at Hogwarts. I was thinking about my parents deaths as I always do the day before the anniversary, and I went to visit Severus Snape. When things get out of control, I go see Him, and He helps put things in perspective for me."

Fucking hell! What am I saying? I feel like I'm going to pass out, and take in several gulps of air before I continue.

"A few weeks ago I accidentally walked in on them. I'd already left for the evening, but came back to pick up a book, and there they were. As my punishment, Severus made me stay and watch Ron fuck Him, and as soon as Ron left, Severus took me into the private dungeon to show me what happens when I disobey Him.

"Master was still very displeased with me. When I met him on the 30th he told me that I was a wretched, foul boy, and that I was going to have to pay for my insolence. I was ordered to strip and kneel quietly on the dungeon floor whilst he finished eating his supper and grading third year essays.

"He came to me two hours later and led me to our 'classroom.' He bent me over the desk and attached a spreader bar between my ankles and placed my wrists in bindings, leaving me spread eagle and immobile. He said I was so filthy that He needed to make sure I was clean before he would touch me. He hasn't used the enema bag on me for quite some time, as I've generally been very good about obeying Him. I must have been especially filthy because He brought it out and cleansed me several times so I would be worthy of his attentions. Master does not fuck dirty boys."

I'm really sweating now, because I am divulging to her my greatest pleasure and my deepest shame. I feel sick, and hope she does not request to see marks that I am unable to show her. Why am I doing this? No one needs to know this; no one should have the privilege of hearing how Master chooses to punish me. He'll be so angry when He finds out I've spoken to an outsider about Him and might never punish me again, and I need that like I need oxygen.

"He smacked my arse and told me that I was no better than a common trollop, and if I wanted to behave like that, He was going to treat me as such. He spread my arse cheeks and roughly shoved in a lubricated butt plug, giving it a few hard thrusts before he smacked my arse again and told me to prepare for my punishment. The moment the words left His lips, I felt the sting of His riding crop as it landed on my arse."

_'I want you to count out each lash, and then beg me for another one. Do you understand me, filth?_'

The Speak Easy charm ensures I recount the scene, including the words Severus used as he flogged my arse raw.

"Of course all I could do was say, 'Yes, Master,' and begin counting each and every stroke as He painted my arse and thighs with a series of measured strokes."

_'Fifteen, Sir. Please punish me for being disobedient.'_

Oh, I begged Him, and I would do it again and again.

_'Tell me what you are, filth._'

_'I'm dirty, low-class chattel, Master. A common slut good for nothing but pleasuring You, and I deserve and welcome every punishment You see fit to bestow upon me.' _

My body is shuddering by now; the look on Basher's face says everything to me. She is disgusted, she does not understand that Master cares for me, and only punishes me for my own good. And I'm sharing my precious memories of my time with Master with this nobody, and know I will lose Him because of it. Is it really worth it? Is bringing Ron's killer to justice worth risking the loss of Master? The only answer my mind supplies me with is 'no'. Nothing is worth risking this. Nothing.

It's entirely my fault anyway. I re-erect my mental shields and bury everything else deep inside of my mind. I cannot let her know what happened in Diagon Alley, how horribly I failed Ron, and how guilty I really am.


End file.
